


A Wolf and A Star

by humapuma



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort Of, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, Tony Is a Good Bro, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, mountainman Steve, werewolf bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humapuma/pseuds/humapuma
Summary: In which Steve Rogers refused to sign the Sokovia Accords and opted for a quiet retirement in his cabin deep in the Pennsylvania wilderness. Despite there being a town nearby, Steve has slunk into his self-imposed isolation, ready to live out his days alone.But when a wolf appears in his woods, he begins to understand that there are some memories he can't run away from and maybe he's too tired to keep going.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 72
Kudos: 348
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Hi! I am finally starting to post this and I'm pretty excited. It had been in limbo for so long so I'm really happy it's come along so far. I think it will be 2 parts, but maybe 3.  
> This is my Marvel Trumps Hate 2019 submission. :)
> 
> The beautiful art here was made by the talented [mma_mookie](https://twitter.com/mma_mookie)! She is incredibly talented and I'm just so pleased with the work she's done! <3
> 
> I really hope you all enjoy this. <3

_“As long as I can’t have the earrings, perhaps I’ll buy a cane,” Lawrence suggested, stepping away from the counter._

_Gwen followed him, smiling. “Well, what kind of cane would you like? Here, this one is very smart,” she stated, pulling one out. “Look, a solid gold top.”_

_He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. “Hmm, no I don’t think that’ll do.”_

_She put the first back and grabbed the next. “Well, how about the little dog? That would suit you.”_

_He could tell she was teasing him. “No, thanks. Um,” he turned away and saw something quite surprising. “Well!” He grabbed the curved silver handle and pulled it out of the bunch. Its shape had caught his eye before he’d even known what it was. “Here’s one. It’d make a good putter.”_

_She laughed, “Yes.”_

_He frowned for a moment, looking at the handle more closely. “That’s funny,” he said. “Another dog.”_

_“No,” she explained, “that’s a wolf.”_

_He inspected the handle. “A wolf?” he repeated, turning the handle over. “A wolf… and a star.”_

__

_2014_

Steve woke on the shore of the Potomac, feeling something wet press against his cheek. He coughed up more water and inhaled deep lungfuls of air. He was surrounded by an odor as familiar as it was foreign to him. Hot breath fanned over his face but he heard no voice to accompany it.

Only panting and a quiet whine that faded as his vision darkened.

_2016_

It had been nineteen months since Bucky dragged Steve out of the river. It had been five-hundred and sixty days since Steve had learned his best friend was still alive, since he’d begun to search for him.

It had been three months since Steve had refused to sign the _Sokovia Accords_ and opted for retirement. It’d been one month since he’d finally given up all hope of ever seeing Bucky again. Every lead they had chased down came to nothing; every single one.

Bucky wanted to disappear and he’d done so.

“Steve,” Sam implored, “you’re _sure_ about this?”

Sighing, Steve threw his leg over his Harley. “Sam, I’ve made up my mind.”

“Come on, Steve,” he argued. “You don’t have to do this. We can keep searching. We get close–”

“Seriously, Sam?”

“– and he slips through our fingers but he’s still out there. We’ll find him!”

Steve shook his head; his brows furrowed and his mouth turned down in a frown. “He doesn’t _want_ me to find him, Sam. If he did, I would have.”

“Steve,” Sam appealed, “the _world_ needs you.”

Steve chuckled. “Sam, the world needs Captain America.” He gestured to the shield in Sam’s hand. “You’re going to do the mantle proud.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Sam defended but Steve interrupted him.

“Look,” he sat back on the bike, “I’m not what the team needs… I haven’t been for a while.” He ran his fingers through his hair. It was longer than it had ever been but he hadn’t had any motivation to cut it, or trim his beard. “I need time, Sam.”

Sam looked as though he wanted to argue but it died. “I know that losing Barnes was –”

“Again.”

“What?”

“I lost him _again_ , Sam,” Steve emphasized.

“Yeah, I…” Sam tried. “Yeah.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder, trying and failing to put on a brave face. “Just… keep in touch, okay?”

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he started the engine and gave Sam a small nod, then he took off. The drive out of DC was slow but once he hit the interstate, it was only a couple of hours until he crossed into Pennsylvania.

Everything he owned had already been moved to the cabin the week before, though there wasn’t much.

When he’d woken up in the future, Steve had felt lost and alone; he’d been displaced in a time he neither understood nor wanted. For years, he had tried to act as though everything was alright, that he wasn’t struggling just to keep his head above water.

When he’d learned that Bucky was still alive, he’d hoped that would change. But that dream was ripped away from him with one simple question: _Who the hell is Bucky_?

It was dark when he finally turned onto the dirt road that led to the cabin. There were no signs or lights, but Steve knew the route. He covered the bike in a tarp and unlocked the front door, heading inside. The smell of dirt and must prevailed through the entryway and into the small kitchen. Beyond that, there was a tiny sitting room with a wood stove and a hallway that led to the bathroom and the bedroom.

There was old furniture that had come with the cabin but it was dirty and smelled, so Steve intended to replace it all. So far, he had only purchased a new bed and bedding, as well as smaller necessities, like towels, soap, and toilet paper.

His goal for the following day was to drive to the nearest town and purchase cleaning supplies. However, at that moment, he could only think of the shower he desperately needed and the few hours of sleep he hoped to achieve.

The water pump had been turned on a few weeks before, and the generator was fueled up, so when Steve stepped into the small bathroom to start the shower, the water was hot. He opened the window and let the warm night air in. It was mid-August, which allowed Steve time to ensure the pipes were in good repair before it got cold enough for them to freeze.

He scrubbed his skin and hair, idly wondering if he should shave his beard. The hot water lulled him and he realized how long the day had been. When he collapsed onto the sheets, sleep took him immediately, dragging him into cold, black dreams where he was drowning and there was no one to save him.

He awoke the next morning to loud banging on his door. Grumbling, he rolled off of the still made bed and pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He’d been so tired the night before, he’d gone to bed naked and doubted his visitor would appreciate if he answered the door that way.

Or, depending on who it was, they may appreciate it _too much_.

Making his way down the hall, he hissed when he stepped on something sharp. When he leaned against the wall to check the bottom of his foot, the ancient wood gave way and his shoulder busted through. Jerking away, Steve exclaimed, “God damn it!”

“Oh no,” a familiar voice muttered before the front door opened. “I thought the outside looked bad,” Tony said, stepping inside and looking around. “Wow, Cap, this is, uh… well, more like the old days, I’d imagine. If I wanted to imagine that.”

“ _Funny_ , Tony,” Steve groused, still searching the floor. “You want some coffee?”

“No, no,” Tony said, holding up two disposable paper cups. “I beg you not to drink the water out here, not in my presence at least.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Steve said, taking the offered drink.

Tony took a deep breath and gave the kitchen a thorough, assessing look before shaking his head. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but it is, indeed, _that bad_. Where did you buy this? Was it Rumlow? I mean, before the building fell on him.”

Steve sighed. “I bought it at an estate auction. The owner wasn’t out here much so it… needs work.”

Tony eyed him for a long moment. “And you have a lot of time now… to do that work.”

Steve met Tony’s gaze. “Yeah… I do.”

He knew what Tony was doing – what he was _asking_. All of his friends had asked the same thing: _Are you sure about this_? It was an odd thing, he knew, to leave everything he knew behind and disappear into the wild but… everything he knew reminded him of Bucky.

“Well,” Tony began, “at least let me see this shack for myself, then.”

Steve chuckled and nodded, gesturing for Tony to follow him. With each room they entered, Tony’s face only became more disturbed. It would have been amusing if it hadn’t been Steve’s _home_ that caused it.

“Come on, Tony,” he defended, “it’s not that bad.”

“Um, Steve,” Tony replied, “that’s _mold_ on your ceiling. Oh, and that?” He pointed to the hole Steve had put in the wall only a few minutes before. “That’s a _hole_. In your wall.”

Steve sighed. “I’ll buy bleach and – and patch that.”

Tony turned to him. “Do you know how to patch a wall?”

“Do _you_?” Steve countered.

“Fair enough. Well,” Tony said, “I’ll be off then.”

“Wait, what?” Steve followed as he walked back to the kitchen. “That’s it?”

Smirking, Tony put on a pair of sunglasses and walked through the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Steve called after him but Tony didn’t respond. Instead, he climbed into his Audi and drove away, leaving Steve confused.

However, his confusion dissipated when, barely an hour later, two more vehicles pulled into his driveway. He looked out the window and saw two men pile out of one car with a decal on the side that read _Maids in Manhattan_. They were wearing matching uniforms and one was carrying a vacuum, while the other had a bucket of cleaning products. Out of the other vehicle, two men and one woman emerged; their truck had the name _Reid Contracting_ stenciled on the side.

Walking out onto his porch, Steve said, “Did Tony Stark send you?” Each and every one of them nodded and Steve sighed. “Alright, come on in.”

“Um,” one of the contractors called out, “he’s also sending… some furniture.”

Steve groaned but simply nodded his head at them. “Thanks. Anything else?”

“Um,” the maid said, “he’s getting a phone line installed.”

Steve smiled, sadly; it was a nice gesture but both he and Tony knew it would go unused. “Thanks,” he said, though he wasn’t sure who he meant it for.

By the end of the day, the cabin was spotless, including the ceilings and baseboards; the hole had been patched; he had a phone; and he had new furniture. He now owned a small dining table and chairs, a comfortable sofa and recliner, shelves, rugs, lamps, end tables, and even a mounted coat rack.

That hadn’t been the end of it though. Before the group left, a UPS truck appeared and delivered new towels for Steve, blankets, a _lot_ of cleaning supplies, cookware, and a substantial amount of food.

“And,” the driver added, “Mr. Stark wanted me to tell you that you have a large amount of credit at the local stores. He really encourages you to buy warm clothes.”

Cocking one eyebrow, Steve nodded. “Sure, thanks.”

After they had all gone, he showered in his freshly cleaned tub and spent the rest of the evening reading on his new couch. It was nearly two in the morning when he finally made his way to bed. The windows in the cabin had all been left open because of the chemicals and construction work, but it allowed the cool, August air to flow in.

His enhanced hearing picked up all sorts of sounds in the woods but, that night, they all went quiet. As he fell asleep, he could have sworn he heard a long, sad howl.

_2017_

Steve’s truck moved easily over the snow and ice on his driveway. He’d hooked the plow up to it earlier that morning and cleared the way so he could make it into town for supplies. There was a major winter storm warning for that evening and he couldn’t be sure how long he’d be snowed in after it hit. Of course, he was sure he could easily run the twenty miles to town if he absolutely needed to – he’d done it before – but he tried to avoid it as much as possible.

He tried to avoid _everyone_ as much as possible.

The beard and long hair had helped at first but within a few months of his arrival, the citizens of Auburn realized who he was. At first, they’d asked questions and invited him to local events, but steadily, they accepted his self-imposed isolation.

Once he reached the cabin, he parked under the carport he’d built and began unloading everything. As a kid, his mom had taught him about canning and preserving food and Steve had remained adept at it, he’d learned.

Most likely, it was his eidetic memory and not his skill, but either way, he had enough food to last if he did get completely stuck. Snowflakes began to fall around him and he could see his breath as the air cooled. He sighed and returned to his task.

He’d lived at the cabin for the better part of eighteen months and he’d found – rather quickly – what the idle hours did to him. Allowing his mind to wander ended in his fists bloodied against trees or boulders.

Sam had once suggested he get a dog but… there were weeks where Steve could hardly move – when he couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone a companion.

No, it was better this way. _I can get by on my own_.

On his second trip to the truck, something caught his eye. In the fresh snow, trailing along the front of the cabin, Steve found large paw prints. They were much bigger than any dog he’d ever seen but the wolves in the forest never came near the clearing, let alone traipsed through it.

They were fresh, too – before Steve had left for town, he’d shoveled this area down. The prints were in the newly fallen snow, which indicated the animal had been there in the last twenty, maybe thirty minutes. He looked up, watching the tree line for any movement, but there was nothing.

Unable to shake off the feeling of being watched, he finished carrying everything inside to put it all away. He removed his boots and coat, leaving them both in the entryway as he came inside. Once the groceries and supplies were put up, he made a couple sandwiches and ate them, did the dishes, and made his way to the bathroom to shower.

The sky had turned a deep grey as night came on and Steve could already feel the tension in his shoulders. The nights were always the worst part. There was so much time and he got so little sleep, the hours passed too slowly, and the memories flooded his mind. He found it was easier to not even try to go to bed until his body was so exhausted, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Instead of heading into the bedroom, he went back down the hall and started working on a fire. He had no television but did keep a number of books to read, all stacked neatly on his single bookcase. Each one was curled and bent from being reread so many times. The covers were worn and faded on a few of his favorites, but he hadn’t grown tired of them yet.

Once the flames were hot and bright, he closed the door and opened the vent, allowing the warmth to spread. He could remember a time when such a thing was a luxury. Shaking those thoughts away, he stood up and took his normal spot on the sofa. The book he’d been reading, _The Call of the Wild_ , was on the side table, so he took it and opened it to the page he’d been on the night before.

He read for hours and only dragged himself to bed when he knew the exhaustion would finally take him. However, like clockwork, he awoke at five and pulled his running clothes on. Outside the front door, he found that the weather reports were, in fact, spot on as two feet of snow covered his yard.

Running in it was easy, regardless of the cold that bit into the skin of his legs and feet. He knew the woods well by then, knew where the ground was most even. His circuit took him deep into the woods, staying far away from town.

As the trail shifted and he entered a clearing, he skidded to stop. There were footsteps nearby – too many to be human but too light to be a deer or moose. He crouched down, searching the area for the source of the sounds. Oddly, the entire forest seemed to go silent as he waited.

Hesitating for only a moment longer, Steve stood and began running again, faster than before. If it was some kind of predator, he’d need his rifle, or any weapon at the very least. Since moving out there, he’d come face to face with a bear, a mountain lion, coyotes, and a bobcat. He hadn’t been attacked by any of them, though the bear had appeared as if it might charge him.

Whatever had been following him, it was still behind him somewhere. In a matter of minutes, he could hear it again but, this time, he didn’t stop. Instead, he ran faster and faster, pushing himself to the limit, until the cabin appeared.

By the time he had reached the tree line, though, the sounds faded. Once on his small porch, Steve turned and waited, panting heavily for the first time in months, as he stared at the woods, waiting.

However, nothing came bursting through the brush and, after a moment, the sounds of the forest returned. There was something like disappointment in his gut, but he refused to acknowledge it and, instead, went inside to shower.

_February_

Steve’s brow was sweaty, even in the cold air. He knew that shoveling was mostly pointless, especially if the news reports were accurate, but he needed to keep himself busy.

Once he’d completed that task, at least for the time being, Steve walked around the cabin to the shed. Inside, he checked the generator and checked the fuel lines for obstructions, then he cleared the snow off of the solar panels. He had refilled the fuel tank the week before, which ensured he would not need to do so again until the next month.

Just to be safe, though, he checked his fuel supply in the shed, but the solar power helped to extend it.

After he had finished assessing all of that, Steve went to the water pump hose. He’d dug and installed an underground pump that connected to a well. On his own, it had taken a day with instructions from a contractor he’d met in town. The previous owners had started the project but never finished, which simplified the work for Steve.

Because it was underground, he didn’t have to worry about it freezing, though he did have to check the line to the cabin, as well as the pipes in the cellar. Going back around to the front door, Steve entered the cabin and knelt down, picking up the insulation he’d purchased in town.

He returned to the cellar doors and turned the key in the padlock before pulling them open to reveal the short set of steps. It wasn’t anything special, really – just a dirt floor and walls with a small window and shelves that he’d installed along the far wall. There were cans and jars lining them, along with emergency supplies.

He measured the pipes and cut the insulation to fit it around them. He hadn’t done this the previous winter and regretted it. Using zip ties, Steve secured the pipes and stored the unused pieces on the shelf.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow pass over the window and he turned, seeing nothing there. He rushed up the steps and around the side of the cabin but there was no one. As he moved closer to the window, he heard rustling in the trees and took off in a sprint. Even the deep snow couldn’t slow him down.

He broke through the tree line, running straight. He saw bushes move and heard branches crack to his left, so he veered in that direction. He had no idea how he’d missed the trespasser cutting across that way, but it didn’t matter. The forest was alive and loud with commotion as birds were startled out of the trees and other small animals scurried off. Elk ran from the tumult but Steve could hear something much louder ahead.

_Who is it and why are they running from me_?

Then, all at once, the sound stopped – all of it. The forest which had been clamorous only moments before had gone quiet. Not once since Steve had arrived at the cabin had this happened. The woods were always busy with life but… _something_ had frightened all of it into absolute silence.

He skidded to a stop, looking around himself. There was no wind and the snow had stopped for the time being; the shrubs remained frustratingly still; and Steve’s trespasser had somehow vanished. Taking a few deep breaths, Steve marched on, searching for the trail.

After a few paces, he stopped and frowned, looking down at the disturbed snow. These tracks were not those of a man or woman, spying on him – they were wolf prints. The same large ones he’d found outside his cabin earlier.

_Wolves don’t come that close_ , he thought to himself, looking up.

Turning, Steve’s eyes darted around, searching for any sign it was still nearby. His panting had slowed and, all at once, the forest came alive again as if whatever had frightened it was gone. It was almost deafening at first but he continued to contemplate his surroundings until something caught his eye. He rushed forward, staring intently at something that had not been there before.

He approached a small tree with a busted branch; on the jagged piece, there was a clump of white fur. It was not the fur of a deer, even a whitetail; it was too high off the ground to have come from a rabbit and he couldn’t think of another animal with such silvery coloring.

When he touched it, he was startled to find how soft it was. If anyone ever asked, he couldn’t explain what caused him to take it, but he did. Plucking it off the tree, he clenched his fist around. Sparing one final look around, Steve turned and walked back to the clearing.

In his dreams that night, he followed a beautiful white wolf through the woods. Its piercing blue eyes looked wrong – they were too human… too familiar. The biting cold seeped into his skin but he couldn’t stop trying to reach it. In his desperation, he stumbled and fell in the snow; when he looked up, the wolf was there, waiting for him.

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal,” a voice whispered in his ear before he woke up.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here is part 2. Warning, there is violence in this part as well as some passive thoughts of self-harm. As we all know, Steve is pretty messed up. :(  
> There will be one final part <3 Get ready for some feels here.  
> Thank you for reading my work.

_March_

The weather cleared up for a few days and Steve was able to chop more wood for the stove. Even though he had the generator, the fireplace was the only heat the cabin had. It was enough, though; if he had a good fire going before he went to bed, the cabin would still feel warm the next morning.

The decent weather also allowed him to work on bigger projects he’d wanted to finish. He replaced the gutters and set a barrel beneath them to capture rainwater in the spring. The well provided him with enough water, of course, but he knew the pump wasn’t infallible and any repairs could take a few days.

To better insulate the cabin, he’d purchased some old storm windows to put in. His caulk had frozen, though, so he and it sat inside the cabin, waiting. There were other things he could do, he knew, but his sleep had been uneasy and was filled with the howling of a wolf. He had no idea if it was a dream or not.

The heat coming from the stove had begun to sting his skin but he remained in his spot, unwilling to move away from the pain. He knew that, even if he put his hand directly into the flames, it would heal in a matter of hours. Since receiving the serum, he no longer scarred; his bruises faded in minutes; even gunshot wounds closed up on their own.

He couldn’t recall the pain, regardless of his perfect memory. Staring at the bright red flames, Steve wondered… what it would feel like.

Clenching his jaw, he leaned forward, reaching out with a steady hand. The moment he felt the first lick of fire, there was a crash of glass and he leapt off the couch. On the floor by the window, there was a rock as if someone had thrown it into the cabin. Rushing to the front door, he rounded the side of the house without having paused to put his shoes or coat on.

Below the window, there were obvious signs of… something. The snow was disturbed all the way down to the frozen soil where the rock had been dug up. There were tracks all over – those of a wolf again, but it appeared as if it had been… pacing.

Steve swallowed and turned, searching the tree line for any hint of the white fur he’d found before. Running his fingers through his hair, he frowned at the broken window and returned inside to change out of his wet socks.

The caulk was thawed well enough that he could use it and he pulled his boots and coat on. As he stepped onto the small porch, he checked the tree line again. It had been quite lucky that, whatever had thrown that rock had done so when he’d intended to replace his windows anyway.

The process took a few hours – longer than it should have because he kept stopping what he was doing to look around, convinced that someone was watching him.

That night, dark sounds invaded his dreams – snarls and growls so animal, it frightened him. A primal fear rooted itself in his gut, as if danger waited nearby for him to drop his guard. He chose not to run in the woods the next morning and, instead, ran into town. He received odd looks from locals but that was normal for him. Running along the outskirts, he maintained a distance from the woods but also kept himself away from the main drag, avoiding all contact.

No matter how fast he moved or how far he ran, a tension had settled in his shoulders that he couldn’t shake. It was as if something were right on his heels, chasing him, but when he glanced back, the trail was empty. He rounded a corner and made his way back to the woods, a new determined set to his jaw.

That night, he snapped awake, feeling as if he’d only just fallen asleep. Blinking, he tried to figure out what sound had woken him, and then he heard it again.

_Gunshots_.

He leapt out of bed and hurried down the hall, leaving the lights off. When another rang out, sounding nearer than the others, he dropped low. Only the sound of a high yelp sent him running, hard and fast out the door.

His bare feet burned in the snow and the cold, winter air bit into his skin. He had no idea what he was doing – if someone had shot the wolf, it may have been out of self-defense but… something was driving him.

Something inside him no longer believed it was merely a wolf.

The sound of footsteps halted Steve’s movements and he crouched again, pressing his back to a tree. He could smell blood in the air, coming from all around him and he knew that there were bodies littering his woods. The distinct sound of whispered voices grew nearer and he turned his head in their direction. Flashlights shone on the white snow but luckily his footprints weren’t visible. Once close enough for him to make out, though, he realized they were speaking German.

“[…heard something over here.]”

“[Was it him?]”

“[How should I know?]” Their steps became louder as they approached his hiding spot. “[Why the fuck would the creature come here?]”

_Creature_?

“[It searches for him.]”

Steve frowned but before he could even begin to imagine what they were talking about, something rushed past him. He spun around, coming face to face with two men in Kevlar, carrying SMGs. Just as they were raising their arms to shoot, there was a deep snarl from behind him and _somehow_ he knew he was safe.

He felt the air whoosh as the white wolf leapt over him and he rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the spray of bullets fired at it.

“[Fuck, fuck, fuck!]” One of the men screamed and Steve looked up.

Both men were on the ground but one was bleeding heavily. The wolf was on him, large and vicious, with its bloody fangs bared. The other man scrambled to his feet, aiming his weapon, and Steve sprinted at him, tackling him.

He wrestled the gun away and turned it on the man, shooting him in the head. Because the gun was fully automatic, though, there was hardly anything left when he’d finally released the trigger. He tossed the gun away, staggering backward in horror.

There was another yelp, drawing Steve’s attention. Though gravely wounded, the other one had shot the wolf until it collapsed to his side.

A darkness rose up in Steve – a rage that he’d long believed extinguished – and he flung himself at the attacker. Clothed in his sweatpants, with no shirt or shoes, Steve Rogers began beating the man with his bare fists.

“St…op…”

With his arm still raised, knuckles bloody and split open, Steve turned toward the wolf. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open, he found a naked man lying in the snow, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. His hair was long and greasy, eyes wild in agony, but Steve would know him _anywhere_.

“Bucky?”

At that word, Bucky’s head snapped toward him and he snarled. Steve scooted away, hands stinging against the ground. As he watched, breaths coming out in pants, Bucky’s teeth transformed, _sharpened_ , and his gray eyes turned golden before he leapt to his feet and ran.

Steve remained there, sitting in the snow, shaking, though the chill running down his spine was not from the cold air.

“B-Buck?” He shuddered, staring into the darkness as the sound of two feet turned to four, fading in the distance.

When he finally made his way back to the cabin, the sky had begun to turn light. Sitting at his table, he held the phone in his hand as tears burned his eyes.

_Why the fuck would the creature come here?_

_It searches for him_.

“Bucky,” he breathed, setting the phone down and wiping his cheeks.

A loud thump against his front door pulled him from his thoughts and he jumped to his feet. Slowly, he approached the entryway, somehow knowing exactly what was waiting on the other side.

“Bucky,” he said but there was no answer. “Bucky,” he tried again, making his tone firmer, “do you know me?”

There was a moment of silence before a voice replied, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

Steve swallowed, pressing his open palm to the door. “I know you’re nervous,” he answered, “and you have plenty reason to be… but you’re lying.”

He reached for the doorknob but Bucky’s frightened shout stopped him. “Don’t! Just… don’t open the door.”

“Why?” He snapped but Bucky didn’t answer. “You pulled me from the river,” he demanded. “Why?”

He could hear Bucky take a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he said and ripped the door open to find his porch empty.

He could hear the wolf running into the woods, moving fast as if Steve might chase after him. Standing there in the bitter cold, Steve stared into the darkness, eyes wide and mouth open.

Suddenly it all hit him at once – Bucky was alive in those woods. He was – what? A werewolf? Had Hydra’s serum transformed him into a werewolf?

His breaths started coming in faster as his entire body began to shake.

“Oh, my God,” he choked out, gulping air as he collapsed backward into his cabin before slamming the door shut. “Oh, holy shit.”

He leapt up and twisted the lock into place, though he had no way of knowing it would keep anything out. He scrubbed his hands over his face and gasped when he pulled them away. With a start, he realized that his face, bare chest, and his sweatpants had blood on them, not to mention the mud and other filth covering him.

It was almost surreal how familiar it felt to shower the blood and grime off of himself. So many times, over the course of his long life, he’d washed war and death away. But there was something else that stuck out to him, something he recognized – the _smell_. It was musky but almost… comforting.

The scent had followed them through Italy and it wasn’t until Bucky fell that Steve realized it was coming from him.

Steve didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he sat at the table and stared out the window, clutching his compass in both hands.

_April_

Rising from his bed, Steve scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sun was beginning to rise earlier and earlier as spring bloomed around the cabin. He made his way to the kitchen but bypassed his coffee pot in favor of stepping out onto the porch. Looking down, he found the bowl and plate he’d left out the night before, empty and waiting, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I hope you enjoyed the roast, Buck,” he said aloud, knowing Bucky was listening from the woods somewhere.

He carried the dishes inside and pressed the button on his coffee maker. As it bubbled, he set to washing them in the sink before laying them out to dry.

This had become his daily routine. Each night, he followed a new recipe – one he remembered that Bucky had loved in their youth – and each morning, he found empty plates where food had been.

It was a small thing, he knew, but… it was a thing, nonetheless. It was a connection.

After they had been attacked, Steve returned to the woods the next day to discover the bodies were missing. There were still blood stains and signs of a struggle but nothing that would make it appear as if humans were involved. He hadn’t seen the wolf – hadn’t seen _Bucky_ – since that night, but he’d heard him. Sometimes, Steve slept against the front door, listening to the soft sounds of Bucky’s paws on the ground.

_Jesus, his paws_.

After he dressed, Steve spent the majority of the day clearing the saplings and other vegetation away from the area he planned to build on. He’d start with a small garage, then he planned to add onto the cabin, expanding the front room.

When he could no longer ignore the rumbling in his stomach, he decided to call it a day and went inside to start cooking. He’d taken four large steaks out of the freezer to thaw and, by that time, they were ready to be seasoned and grilled.

As he finished eating, he looked out the window at the darkening sky. Once he’d finished in the shower, night had fully come on. He scooped potatoes, vegetables, and the meat onto a large plate and set it on the porch before shutting the door and sliding to his knees.

“Bucky,” he whispered, spinning around to sit down. He took a shuddering breath and waited, leaning his head back against the wood. “Please, Bucky.”

But there was no response, only the constant sounds of the forest that surrounded him. That was, at least, until everything _stopped_. The birds went silent; the wind died; even the insects went still.

“Bucky,” he said, louder. “Are you there?”

Soft footfalls grew closer – not the sound of paws, though. As the steps approached, they hesitated a moment before finally getting on the porch.

Steve turned and reached for the doorknob but a voice shouted, “Don’t!”

Swallowing down his shock, Steve demanded, “Tell me why.”

There was a long moment of silence before Bucky spoke again. “I don’t… recognize you.”

“What?”

“I look at you and… I don’t know you. I know your – your voice, Steve, and… your _scent_ , but… the Steve I remember was… smaller.”

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve assured. “I won’t mind.”

“No!” Bucky snapped. “I’ll hurt you. I can’t… I can’t keep you safe. If I see you, it’s like seeing a stranger.”

Steve shut his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. “But you… remember me?”

“For better or worse,” Bucky rasped, “I remember.”

“Why do you not –” Steve stopped himself short then, unable to keep a sob from escaping his throat. “Do you know why?”

“No,” Bucky answered. “I think I remember you rescuing me. I… I remember the… uniform – wanting you to keep it.”

Steve sniffled. “Is it just my size that’s confusing?”

Bucky took a shuddering breath. “No,” he whispered, “the… hair and… beard… they make you look so different.”

“That’s why you run from me.”

“Yes,” Bucky answered. “But your smell, Steve… it’s… it’s like…”

“Home,” Steve breathed and wiped tears off of his cheeks. “You smell like home to me.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky agreed and Steve heard a thump against the door, as if Bucky were touching it – reaching out. “It’s… the same for me.”

Steve sighed in relief, resting his forehead on the cool wood. “I’ve missed you, Buck.”

With a shaky breath, Bucky said, “Me, too.”

After that, Steve went quiet and listened as Bucky ate the food. When he knew he was done, Steve whispered, “Are you… leaving soon?”

“I think I’d better. I’m surprised you’ve stayed inside for as long as you have.”

“It isn’t easy,” Steve admitted. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

With a chuckle, Bucky answered, “Couldn’t hardly stay away.”

Before Steve could even respond, Bucky was running away; he’d… changed, Steve could tell by the difference in gait. When Steve crawled into bed, he fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. When he awoke, the sun was already up and he could hear the birds outside his window.

The following days continued in the same pattern. Steve would stay awake, listening for Bucky and they would talk for a while. It made Steve so happy to hear Bucky recount memories of their life before the war. It even felt good when Bucky talked about the other stuff – the not so happy parts.

Through it all, he remained adamant that Steve looked too different for him to recognize… and that bothered Steve.

One morning, after he ate breakfast and cleared away Bucky’s dishes, he drove into town and stopped at the barber shop. “Hi, Captain,” the owner, greeted.

Steve swallowed down the disdain for that title and smiled. “Tom.”

“What can I do for you?” Tom was an older man with white hair and an ever-growing beer belly but he was always kind. Though Steve nearly chuckled at the idea that anyone was _older_.

“I, uh,” Steve tried, stepping further inside. “A haircut, maybe? And a shave.”

Tom raised his eyebrows but nodded. “Of course. Come on over.”

Sitting in the chair, Steve grit his teeth against the tension that had settled in his shoulders. The scissors were his least favorite part but he handled it, balling his hands into fists beneath the smock. Tom preferred a straight razor, Steve knew, but he chose to use a regular one. The only reason Steve could imagine was that he knew the blade might make Steve nervous.

The last time he’d seen violence – apart from the night he’d found Bucky again – had been nearly three years before. But the instinctual response – the need to protect himself – hadn’t faded at all.

“All done, sir,” Tom announced and spun the chair around.

He was smiling at Steve in the mirror but Steve wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at a ghost – a man who’d died in 1945. With a shaky breath, Steve said, “Thank you, Tom. I – I’d forgotten what I looked like… under all that.”

Tom nodded. “I understand that.”

Frowning, Steve asked, “You do?”

“I used to live in Minneapolis… years ago.” Steve met his gaze and waited. “When I came back from Vietnam, I couldn’t handle the noise. The people, the traffic, it was too much. Didn’t leave my house for weeks at a time.”

Steve shifted in his seat. “How did you end up here?”

“My Uncle owned this place,” Tom answered, gesturing around them. “My mom put me on a bus and sent me to live with him. The first thing he did was try to shave my beard and, let me tell you, that straight blade coming at my face was enough to send me right back into the jungle.”

Steve could picture the scene easily. “Thank you for not… using it on me.”

“It’s like seeing a different person,” Tom went on, “seeing who you used to be before. Your case is a little different, I know, but… we all leave something of ourselves back there. Getting even a _piece_ of it back… I think it helps.” He chuckled. “It helped _me_ at least.”

Steve swallowed but didn’t answer; he dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the counter as he left, nodding his head to Tom as he did.

Back at home, Steve showered the small hairs away and again stared at himself in the mirror. Despite the fog, he could see that _years_ had disappeared off of his face, but not just that – he could see that small man, the one Bucky remembered.

Maybe… maybe Bucky would recognize him like this; maybe they could look at one another this way.

Taking a shaky breath, he pulled on a white t-shirt and some jeans, then his socks and boots, before stepping outside. He waited on the porch and watched along the tree line, searching for a sign that Bucky was nearby.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Before his eyes, the white wolf crept through the bushes into the clearing, staring at him. Steve walked down the two steps but held still once his feet hit the ground, allowing Bucky to decide what would happen next.

The wolf remained in that same spot for what felt like hours but may have only been minutes before he took a few tentative steps forward. After several feet, he stopped again, as if waiting to see what Steve would do; when Steve did nothing, he moved again.

It may have taken a full ten minutes before he made it across the clearing and stood mere yards from Steve. From that distance, Steve could see the intelligence in the wolf’s eyes and the surprise it must have felt.

Steve took a shaky breath before reaching his right hand out slowly, palm up, and held it there. Time stood still in that moment – the forest quieted around them, as if waiting to see what would happen.

Bucky moved closer and closer until his nose was mere inches from Steve’s fingers… and he sniffed. Something in his eyes whispered to Steve; it opened its arms and wrapped him in its warm embrace. Something shifted in the air – a mist that was both surrounding Bucky and connected to him – and then those yellow eyes turned gray.

Steve gaped as the white fur receded into pale skin and large, pointed ears shrunk; his snout and fangs became a human nose and mouth; and his left arm shifted from flesh to glinting metal. Suddenly, the mist faded and in its wake knelt a naked Bucky. The long hair that covered his face couldn’t conceal the recognition Steve found there.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered as he stood up.

Steve had no idea when he’d started breathing so heavily but he could hardly stop then. “Buck.” He fell backward onto the steps, eyes and mouth wide as he stared. “ _Bucky_?”

Bucky moved toward him, slowly and carefully, as if it were _Steve_ who might run or attack. Reaching out, he cupped Steve’s cheek with his flesh hand and Steve melted into it. “Hi, Stevie,” Bucky said. “I missed you.”

Steve’s vision blurred as tears filled his eyes and he lunged forward in a reckless move, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulling him close. “I missed you,” he wept. “I’ve missed you for so long.”

Bucky gathered Steve up in his arms and held him, shaking and crying. It had been so long that Steve had forgotten how small he felt when Bucky held him – even when Steve had been bigger than him.

He wasn’t anymore, that was for sure. Bucky was wide and thick; his shoulders were broad and his thighs cradled Steve easily. “It feels good to be… home,” Bucky murmured and Steve choked out a sob.

“You’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? <3


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Part 3 and the end of the fic. I really hope you enjoy it! <3

When Bucky emerged from the shower, Steve’s eyes went wide. He had forgone the clothes that Steve had set out for him in favor of standing, naked, in the doorway. Steve watched as droplets of water rolled down his body before splashing onto the floor, and it… did something to him.

But not as much as the look in Bucky’s eyes.

“Buck,” he whispered, swallowing around a dry throat. “Do you… want something to cover up with? I have… blankets. It’s cold out –”

Before he had a chance to keep rambling, Bucky crossed the room and took his face in his hands. “I… I remember… doing this,” he whispered, though he looked more unsure than he had when they’d fought in D.C. “Did we – didn’t we – were we like this?”

Steve inhaled sharply as Bucky’s thumb caressed his cheek. Licking his lips, he breathed, “Yes.”

Without another word, Bucky’s mouth was on Steve’s as his hands yanked him closer. The kiss was harsh with more teeth than Steve was used to but it was _Bucky_ and he didn’t care if it hurt a little. Before he realized what was happening, Bucky had picked Steve up and carried him through the cabin to the bedroom.

“Buck,” Steve gasped when he was deposited on the bed. “Are you sure? We can wait. A few days ago, you didn’t recognize me.”

“I know you,” Bucky asserted as he prowled closer. “I know every inch of you. I know your smell,” he rasped, leaning close and inhaling. “I know your taste,” he went on, licking up the column of Steve’s throat. “I know the way you feel against me.” He crawled between Steve’s legs and laid down. “And under me… and inside me.”

“Oh, my God,” Steve groaned.

“I know how you feel inside too,” Bucky continued. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, not caring one bit what Bucky was asking for. “Anything.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate for a second and began tearing at Steve’s clothes with wild abandon. In no time at all, Steve was just as naked as Bucky and, for the first time in seventy-five years, he felt _his_ Bucky against him.

“I missed you,” he whispered, tightening his legs around Bucky’s hips. “I can’t believe you’re here… that this is real.”

“It’s real,” Bucky breathed, “I’m real.”

Steve felt his heart pounding in his chest – or was that Bucky’s? – and his blood rushed in his ears. Bucky’s hands were everywhere and, despite the fact that he’d been living outside, they both felt warm against Steve’s bare skin. The metal seemed to hold heat, which Steve was grateful for.

“Do you have slick?” Bucky rasped and Steve nodded.

“Drawer,” he answered and Bucky nodded before he reached across the bed and began digging in the bedside table.

“Oh,” Bucky gasped and Steve sat up a bit.

“What is it?”

“Your compass…”

Steve felt his face turn beat red and he swallowed. Sitting up all the way, he looked where Bucky’s eyes were trained. “It’s – I just… I keep it there.”

Taking it off of the table, Bucky held it up and opened the cover. Inside was a black and white photo of Bucky; it had been taken somewhere in France and Steve hadn’t been able to get a copy until after Bucky was gone.

“This was me,” Bucky said, blinking rapidly and Steve realized he was crying.

Hurrying closer, Steve touched Bucky’s face, brushing his damp hair aside. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “I swear, everything’s going to be okay.”

“They’ll never stop chasing me,” Bucky croaked. “I’m sorry I brought them to your door, Stevie.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t be sorry for that.”

“They could have killed you.”

“But they didn’t,” Steve assured, taking Bucky’s metal hand and pressing it to his chest. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

Bucky stared, wide-eyed, at Steve. It was clear that he hadn’t expected Steve to touch that arm, much less want it on him. In an effort to prove it, Steve placed his hand over Bucky’s, holding it there as he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so happy you came back to me.”

The tears fell from Bucky’s eyes with renewed vigor. He choked out a sob and fell against Steve’s chest, weeping heavily in his arms. Steve wrapped his free arm around Bucky’s shoulders and held him, keeping their hands in place.

“I love you; I love you,” Bucky chanted as his cries began to ebb.

Steve took a breath and held him closer. “Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s get dressed.”

Bucky pulled back to meet Steve’s eyes. “What? Why?”

Touching Bucky’s cheek, Steve said, “It’s okay if it’s too soon.”

“No, please Steve,” Bucky begged, pressing small kisses to Steve’s mouth, cheek, along his jaw, and down his throat. His breath was hot as he continued, “Please, I need to… I need to feel human.” He licked at the sensitive skin under Steve’s ear. “Make me feel human.”

“Oh, my God,” Steve groaned, tilting his head to give Bucky more room.

“I want to feel you,” Bucky went on, dragging the tips of his fingers along Steve’s torso from his nipples to his hips.

“Yes,” Steve hissed and Bucky didn’t need to be told again.

The next thing Steve knew, he was on his back and Bucky was on him. Once he had Steve’s consent, he’d become _wild_ , in absolute contradiction to his request. Even if he had wanted to feel human, it was clear that the wolf was leading him, leading them _both_.

His hands were harsh on Steve’s skin, pushing and pressing him into the bed, holding him just where Bucky wanted him. The show of strength sent shivers down Steve’s spine, even as he felt _other_ changes. The blunt nails that he’d felt on his skin moments before were turning sharp and the teeth that nipped at his neck were beginning to sting and burn the flesh as Bucky bit down.

His breath blew hot against Steve’s ear as he whispered, “I wanna fuck you, Stevie.”

“Yes,” Steve answered immediately and pointed to the bedside table. “Lube, there.”

Bucky retrieved it before resuming his place between Steve’s thighs. Panting, Steve lifted his legs and pulled his knees against his chest, but Bucky shook his head. “Not yet,” he rasped, leading Steve’s feet back to the bed.

Steve watched with bated breath as Bucky licked his cock from root to tip, paying special attention to the pre-come that was already collecting there. With his mouth wide like that, Steve could see Bucky’s fangs, having grown longer than normal human teeth. When Bucky took his cock deep in his throat, though, he took care to keep them away from Steve’s sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Bucky,” Steve groaned. “Please.”

Bucky seemed to understand what Steve was asking for, even if Steve himself didn’t know. He took Steve as deep as he could before pulling off and repeating the action again and again. It wasn’t long before Steve was panting and moaning, feeling the coiling in his abdomen.

“Bucky, I’m getting close,” he gasped out and Bucky removed his mouth but took Steve in his hand and continued stroking him.

“Come on me, Steve,” Bucky urged, moving in close. “Mark me up, come all over me.”

Steve had never once in his life considered doing something so _obscene_ but, dear God, did he want to at that moment. He arched his back as his orgasm ripped through him, splashing across Bucky’s chest and abdomen.

Bucky’s hand only stopped moving when Steve whimpered in overstimulation. He reached down and used his finger to collect some of Steve’s come then raised it to his lips. Steve watched, transfixed, as Bucky licked it clean.

Without another moment of hesitation, Steve reached down and grabbed Bucky’s dick with both hands. He rubbed the tip with his thumb while stroking the length of it with his other hand. Bucky released a shocked moan, throwing his head back until Steve touched the base and gasped.

Bucky met his eyes and he began to pull away. “We don’t have to…”

“Slow down,” Steve urged, gripping the slightly swollen flesh, making Bucky whine in pleasure. “What is it?”

“It’s – oh, God, it’s a _knot_ , it… fuck, it gets bigger when I… when I come.”

Steve blinked. “What if you don’t come inside me?”

Bucky shivered at that. “It kind of… aches… but we don’t have to do that.”

“No,” Steve said, immediately. “I want to. I know I can take it, Buck.”

The groan Bucky released was deep and guttural. Before Steve knew what was happening, Bucky had flipped him onto his belly and began manhandling him so his knees were beneath him. He drizzled lube directly over Steve’s ass, then rubbed the furled muscle there with two thick fingers.

“Gonna give you four fingers,” Bucky rasped.

“Please.” Steve’s whisper turned into a moan as Bucky pressed those fingers inside him. The stretch was uncomfortable at first but when he gasped, Bucky switched to a single digit immediately. That was far easier for Steve to take and, by the time he was ready for the second one, there was no burn. Bucky moved slowly though, having seemingly remembered to be gentle during this part.

That was until Bucky grazed his prostate. After that, Steve lost track of time as Bucky opened him up, slipping in and out of awareness as spikes of pleasure hit him.

“Fuck, so loud for me.”

Steve must have been making sounds and they must have been ones Bucky enjoyed. He pressed his chest to the mattress and stretched his back, changing the angle so each time Bucky twisted his wrist, he touched that spot.

The fourth finger was almost too much but Steve breathed through it, knowing that if he intended to take the knot, it would be like this. Once Bucky was able to move more freely, he added more lube and pumped his fingers in and out several times, making Steve shake.

“Bu – please, I can’t – need you,” Steve pleaded.

“I know, sweetheart,” Bucky purred, slipping free and once more reaching for the lube. “I know.” Steve turned to watch him slick himself up and groaned as Bucky squeezed the base of his dick. “You want it, huh?” He rasped, moving to kneel behind Steve.

“Want it,” Steve confirmed in a desperate voice and Bucky didn’t make him wait.

The first push of Bucky’s dick was slow but constant as he pressed all the way inside. Steve could feel the small, swollen area and he felt a strange curiosity about how big it would get. That was until Bucky pulled out and thrust back in, sending all rational thought from Steve’s mind.

He was already hard again and each time Bucky hit his prostate, pre-come spread over the blanket beneath them. The way that Bucky gripped him, holding him in place where he wanted him, sent shivers racing across Steve’s body.

Bucky’s knot was growing and Steve could feel it stretching him further; then, Bucky’s moans changed and he began fucking him harder, pressing it inside. “Steve,” Bucky rasped, “you’re sure?”

“God, yes,” Steve agreed, spreading his legs wider in hopes of accommodating it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky whispered. There was a desperation in his voice, but also an almost resigned tone.

“You won’t,” Steve assured, looking back. “I want it inside me.”

With that, Bucky’s thrusts grew wild and erratic as he repeatedly pushed the growing knot inside of Steve until it was so big, it couldn’t go in as easily. With a whine, Bucky reached over and Steve watched him grab the lube to spread it around Steve’s ass and along the knot itself.

Bucky released a deep, guttural moan as he began thrusting harder than before. The lube eased the way for him, allowing the knot to pop inside Steve again and again, even as it continued to swell. Steve was whimpering at the intrusion but it felt so incredible, he couldn’t help but press back into it.

“It’s gonna – fuck, Steve, I’m gon- oh, God,” Bucky stuttered out as he gripped Steve’s hips hard with both hands. With a roar of a moan, Bucky pressed the knot inside of Steve one final time, locking them together as he came inside him. “ _Ohhhhh_ ,” he breathed as his hips twitched, as if he couldn’t stop.

The swollen base of Bucky’s dick pressed against Steve’s prostate so perfectly, his eyes rolled in the back of his head. He wanted to scream in pleasure but also in frustration as he remained hard and wanting. Bucky pressed them both forward so that Steve lay on his stomach with Bucky on top of, and inside him. Spreading his legs more, Bucky forced Steve’s own legs wider still as he began grinding his knot against Steve’s prostate. It was in the perfect spot but Steve wasn’t sure that he could come without touching his dick, however, when he tried to reach for it, Bucky took his wrist and pressed it back into the mattress.

“You can do it,” he growled, continuing his filthy thrusting. “I can feel how close you are. Smell it, too.”

“Bucky, I – I don’t know – I’ve never –”

Bucky didn’t stop his movements or let Steve go. The intensity of it all had Steve moaning constantly, releasing filthy, fucked out sounds he’d never once believed himself capable of. As if Steve’s body knew something his brain didn’t, he felt a warm coiling in his abdomen. He _was_ going to come untouched, just like Bucky wanted him to.

“That’s it,” Bucky groaned, low and deep. “God, just like that, baby.”

Steve sobbed into the pillow as the pleasure crested and he came against the bed, gripping the sheets in both hands as he cried out. He felt his dick pulsing where it lay trapped beneath his belly and the blanket.

Bucky nearly collapsed onto Steve’s back but held himself up at the last moment. His mouth ghosted kisses across Steve’s shoulders and along his neck. “Feels so good,” he breathed in such a quiet voice, Steve wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it. “Never knotted with anyone… it’s good. You feel so good.”

Steve’s dick twitched, despite having come twice, and he groaned. “You do too.”

A growl rumbled inside Bucky’s chest and Steve felt something was different. The teeth on his skin were sharper and the fingers were clawed; when he looked back, the eyes that regarded him were golden yellow. Bucky was partly changed again, but this time, he seemed less aware of himself.

Steve’s ass felt sore but the wolf above him began to rut against him, pressing his swollen knot against Steve’s prostate again. “Buck,” he choked out before a moan erupted from his throat.

“Yeah,” a deep voice growled against his ear. “There it is.”

Bucky was still hard inside him, or perhaps he’d gotten hard again. Steve reached up and grabbed the wrought iron headboard, holding himself in place as Bucky’s hips began moving faster. He couldn’t pull out but he could move his body in a variety of ways that had Steve crying out in pleasure.

At that moment, he realized that the blanket was soaked beneath them and not merely from his come. Bucky spilled out of Steve’s ass with each roll of his hips and Steve couldn’t deny that it was a truly erotic feeling.

“Fuck, you filled me up,” he breathed out and Bucky groaned.

“Gonna do it again. So close, baby, so – oh, _fuck yeah_ ,” he growled out and pressed as deep as he could inside Steve.

He could feel it this time, the warmth filling him as Bucky came again. Steve sighed contentedly against the pillow, feeling relaxed in a way he hadn’t in years.

There were many things that they would need to talk about – may things that they would have to figure out together. But all of it could wait.

“Sleep now,” Bucky whispered in his normal voice. “We’ll shower later.”

“Stay,” Steve breathed and Bucky nodded against his neck.

“I’m staying.”

_The next day…_

They sat at the table, glancing up at one another off and on, unsure of what to say or do next. Bucky was dressed in some of Steve’s clothes, though even Steve struggled to reconcile the image with the naked man he’d spent the last few months talking to through a door, or sleeping with…

Steve finished his breakfast and took his plate to the sink, taking a deep breath as he looked out the window. The sunlight had broken through the rain clouds and shone down on his clearing, illuminating the budding trees and grass. Soon, spring would burn away the frost and new life would come.

A new life.

“Will you stay with me?” He found himself asking as he turned back to Bucky.

Bucky bit his lip. “They won’t stop coming. They know I’m near this area now.”

Steve felt the old rage emerging, the same emotion that accompanied him as he fought his way through Europe after Bucky had fallen from the train. “I won’t let them take you,” he growled. “Not ever again.”

“I can’t ask you to do this, Steve,” Bucky hedged, standing from his seat. “I know how dangerous this will be for you.”

“You’re not asking,” Steve said, stalking forward. “I’m not afraid of danger.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit. “What are you afraid of?”

Steve stepped into Bucky’s space until they were nearly touching. “I can’t lose you again… not when I could do something about it.”

A tension seeped from Bucky’s shoulders and he smiled, pulling Steve into a kiss. “We have a lot to figure out.”

“I know,” Steve agreed. “But I’d much rather figure out this life _with you_ than without.”

“This, the compass,” Bucky chuckled. “Such a sap, Rogers.”

“So, you’ll stay?” Steve asked, needing to hear him say it.

Bucky hesitated for a moment before he nodded his head. “I’ll stay. But… I can’t always be… this way. I need to run sometimes.”

With a smile, Steve said, “I’m pretty fast.”

“I happen to know that about you.” Bucky smirked.

“I could always run with you,” Steve offered.

With a raised eyebrow, Bucky said, “What makes you think you can keep up?”

“Well,” Steve answered with a grin, “I think we both know I have already.”

With that, Steve spun around and took off toward the bedroom, laughing when he heard Bucky give chase.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
